“Dammit, Sienna. How long have you been feeling like this?”
“Since I was shot,” she admitted, too weak to even lie now. “It was barely noticeable then. But it’s gotten worse. Progressively. I thought I was just nervous about having my memory wiped, but…”
“What’s going on?”
Quinton entered the room just as another round of pain ripped through her, so intense she dug her nails into Warrick’s arm—felt her nails pierce through skin.
“What in the…?”
Quinton’s face hovered into view, the shock on his face penetrating through her pain.
She shifted her focus, but found the same shock and horror on everyone’s face. Her dad’s. Warrick’s.
Why were they looking at her like that? Her unease vanished as more pain rocketed through her. Something fierce and primal, deep inside her, seemed to be clawing toward the surface. Leaving her claustrophobic in her own skin.
Her dad’s head shook back and forth, so fast it made her dizzy. “How is this possible?”
“Maybe from the dart?” Warrick rasped.
“How old is she?”
How old? Quinton’s question was extra-odd, and it pulled her to the surface of reality a bit.
“Why does her age matter?” Warrick stroked his fingers gently over her forehead. “Stay with me, Sienna. Rafferty’s going to get you a doctor.”
His touch eased some of the pain, kept her somewhat grounded from the darkness that wanted to take over.
“How fucking old is she?”
If she hadn’t felt like her insides were going to explode, Sienna would’ve screamed how ridiculous Quinton was being.
“She’s twenty-four,” her dad finally answered tersely. “Twenty-five in November. Why?”
“Oh my God.”
From her peripheral vision she watched Quinton stumble away, gripping his head in his hands. A chill swept down the back of her neck and her gut twisted.
“What’s—” Her words ended on a gasp as another wave of pain racked her body. She arched against Warrick’s grasp and let out a scream that resonated throughout the hallway.
“Where the hell is the doctor? She’s dying here!” Warrick shouted.
“Sienna’s not dying.” Quinton returned to stand in front of her.
Her agony was diffused for a moment as she stared up into his pale blue gaze. Whatever Quinton had realized, might still be a mystery to her, but she instinctively knew the pain and comprehension in his eyes would threaten everything she’d ever believed.
“Warrick,” she choked out, “what’s happening to me?”
It wasn’t her mate who answered, but Quinton.
“You’re not dying,” he repeated raggedly. “Your body is trying to shift.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Warrick turned off the water and strode back into Sienna’s old bedroom in her dad’s house.
Only he wasn’t her biological dad.
He set the glass on the table, his stomach clenching at the sight of her fast asleep. She looked at peace. Finally. The tranquilizer almost hadn’t even been needed after hours of fighting physical pain, and the emotional earthquake that had destroyed the foundation of her life.
“I never knew,” Quinton said tonelessly. He sat in a chair in the corner of her room, staring at Sienna. “Her mother never knew.”
“Because you had her mind wiped after the affair.” If Quinton expected an ounce of sympathy from him, he would never get it.
Quinton’s eyes closed, but not before Warrick saw the anguish in them. “I loved her.”
“Then why the hell did you erase her memory? All to save your career? Your status within the community?”
The exact same thing he’d briefly considered with Sienna.
“I won’t lie. That was part of the reason.” Quinton hesitated. “But she was never mine to love.”
No, she hadn’t been. According to Quinton’s revelation earlier, Anita and Kevin had only been married a few years when her affair with Quinton began. Just after Daniel, Sienna’s brother, was born.
“We were always drawn to each other. Neither of us planned the affair. I knew she loved me. One day I marked her. Claimed her as my mate.” Quinton’s shoulders crumpled and he let out a ragged breath. “But she already had a family. A beautiful son. A good husband…”
A good husband. Warrick bit back a harsh laugh at the irony of the statement.
Kevin Peters’s reaction to the news this afternoon had been fairly good considering. There’d been no tears. No violence. He’d just grown pale and tired-looking, appearing much older than his fifty-something years. His main concern had been tending to Sienna, who’d emotionally imploded at the news the father she’d always known wasn’t her biological dad.